


Little Longer

by bonestilts (orphan_account)



Category: Buzzfeed: Worth It (Web Series)
Genre: Adam doesnt know how to help any more, Andrew knows hes being a massive dick but he cant help himself, F/M, M/M, Steven is trying to pretend that everything will be fine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 04:33:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15135182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/bonestilts
Summary: “I— uh, I proposed to Ying last week. She said yes. I wantyouto be my best man.”Andrew hoped the lighting in the restaurant was dark enough to hide the paleness in his face.





	Little Longer

**Author's Note:**

> uuH please excuse shitty writing, i know ur not supposed to say that because its not professional and shit but psshsh, as if i was professional in the first place, this was just a little something i thought of and had a go at writing. please do e joy to the best of your ability.

“I— uh, I proposed to Ying last week. She said yes. I want _you_ to be my best man.”

Andrew had certainly been expecting it, although in no way was he expecting it to happen this soon. In his own mind he gave himself at least another year before the news of marriage was the main cause of his silent struggling. Well, this was a surprise. 

Weddings. Marriage. Commitment. He too had once imagined getting married to a woman; it would be located outside, perhaps in Hawaii beside a beach, the sun would be rising gracefully in the distance, casting a beautiful glow on all the guests, there were to be flower girls who wondered down the aisle, decorating the walkway with soft rose petals, the harps would begin quietly and he would stand there, totally and utterly in love, watching as his fiancé slowly strode towards him, arm locked with her father’s. He’d lost count when it comes to the amount of times he’d dreamt of that moment.

The breakup happened very suddenly and the wedding stayed only a dream. Andrew’s life had plummeted momentarily, by this point he wasn’t even certain who had initiated it, the memory was hardly even existent in his mind. He was almost sure his doubts had something to do with it.

Andrew hadn’t even thought she was homophobic. Although, by the way he had been acting over the past year, he probably could have been accused of it too.

_“What do you mean you don’t know, Andrew? What the hell am I supposed to make of that?”_

__

__

_It felt equivalent to being injected by the peanut butter shot all over again, the agonising bicillin shot Buzzfeed forced him to undergo for a viral video. It was the thickness of guilt in his blood, the way he felt his heart beating far too fast, right up in his throat, the way his knees were shaking steadily, the mock he felt in his mind for being such a dumbass. For taking his thoughts so comfortably, for not thinking through the consequences thoroughly enough._

_“No, I didn’t mean it like that, I’m obviously not— it’s, I’m not like that. I made a mistake, I’m not like that. Trust me.”_

_“Trust me? You come home one night and out of the blue start telling me you’re having a fucking identity crisis and that you ‘don’t know’ who you are anymore? What am I supposed to believe? That you’ve suddenly turned gay overnight? No, I can’t trust you. You’re going insane, Andrew.”_

_“I didn’t turn— I’m not— I am not going fucking insane. I’m being— I’m trying to be honest with you, baby.”_

_“Don’t. Don’t you dare call me that.”_

_“What? Oh, c’mon! Listen—“_

_“No. I will not listen to you. Oh, God, this entire time you’ve been lying to me, haven’t you? I’ve been sleeping with a gay man. I’ve been fucking—“_

_Andrew could feel the massive lump in his throat already, it was growing rapidly and threatening to choke him up. He tried to stay strong, for himself and for their relationship. “You haven’t been sleeping with a— I’m not gay! I wasn’t, I just meant I needed some time to think. I’ve been having second thoughts for a while, I just needed,”_

_“Second thoughts about me? Or about fact that you like cock?”_

_Andrew was frowning fiercely at her. What was making her say such offensive things? He also noticed that she had somehow managed to grab a water jug from the bench and was now pointing it accusingly at him._

_He didn’t believe for a second that she would dare throw it at him. Then again, he also hadn’t believed for a second that she would be so against the idea of him not being one hundred percent straight. Maybe he didn’t know her as well as he’d thought he did._

_Maybe the idea of getting married to her was entirely constructed by the internal fear of his own sexuality. Maybe he really had been living a lie for the past few years of his life. Maybe he was fucking gay._

_“You know what?”_

_Andrew heard the words before they even reached her mind. He was conveniently already standing by the door._

_“Get out. Just get out. Go call up one of your— disgusting,” there was a tremor in her voice, as if it physically pained her to speak about the topic, “boyfriends, and leave.”_

_Andrew wasn’t even mad. He didn’t feel the need to defend his side of the story anymore. God, why had he even been defending himself in the first place? Which side did he stand on? Gay or not gay? He was more ashamed than anything. Ashamed that he even saw things a different way, ashamed that he no longer reacted the same to certain things, ashamed he wasn’t strong enough to keep up the persona he had so carefully created for himself._

_Andrew didn’t think he deserved to feel mad. What was he to be mad about? It was entirely his fault that he had even admitted to himself in the first place that the thoughts and feelings existed. There was a part of him that believed if only he had kept fighting away the urges, he would have blocked them out permanently and therefore nothing in life would have changed._

_But he was so tired of bottling it up so tightly. His feelings for Steven Lim had been repressed for so fucking long, it had begun to suffocate Andrew daily. His waking thought would be Steven, at midday he would be thinking about Steven, night time meant Steven time, Steven Steven Steven, every thought would be Steven. There was no way around it, there was no way he could carry on pretending he wasn’t living the life of two people._

Andrew was partially glad she had been too enraged to bring anyone else into the conversation. If she had even begun to speak of Steven, Andrew would have broke.

It tired him just trying to remember that shitty night. 

He got himself back on track soon enough. Andrew busied himself by staying late at the office every night, being there working on a video prevented him from going to the pub as soon as he was let out, not to say he wouldn’t go out drinking anyway. He’d just leave it for midnight when he knew he was too emotionally tired to stop himself from ordering five shots at once. 

Now he was here, almost a year after the hardest time of his life, and currently being dragged back into another round of death. 

Steven sat across him, an untouched beer in one hand, asking Andrew to be the best man at his upcoming wedding. The question explains the half eaten steak sitting in front of his silver-haired friend, he must have been nervous to ask such a big thing to one the most monotone people of the century. Andrew hoped that the lighting in the restaurant was dark enough to hide the paleness in his face.

“Andrew? Are you—uhm. Is that a yes?” 

There was no hesitation. As soon as Steven’s voice hit what Andrew liked to call _‘overly hopeful territory, almost like a kitten’s meow when it wants to be scratched behind the ear’_ , he reached out to snag Steven’s beer off of him and continued to chug the liquid. He didn’t care that he’d been holding his breath prior so that denying his body of air further was not only making him light headed, but that it also hurt. Nor did he care that by drinking Steven’s, it would make that his sixth drink that night, not making him suitable to give a well thought out, appropriate answer. 

Steven took action by pulling on Andrew’s bent arm, causing him to hit his front teeth on the lip of the glass and put it back down on the table. 

“Andrew! Stop it. You can’t react like that, it makes me super anxious, man.” 

“Fuck.” Andrew’s voice was muffled by his palm, as if covering his mouth would heal the numbing ache of his teeth. And as if that was the part of his body that hurt most in that moment. It took him by surprise that his voice box was even giving him something to work with.

“I’m sorry, oh God. I’m so sorry, are you okay? Did you chip anything?” 

Andrew was shocked with the guilt he felt when listening to Steven apologise to him. What on earth did Steven have to apologise about when it came to him?

“Don’t think so,” 

“Good, okay. Sorry, I shouldn't have done that, but please, back to what I was saying about — you know. Will you do it? Please?”

Andrew made sure he wasn’t looking at Steven’s face. His mouth was forgotten about and the heat of the conversation began to swallow him whole all over again. Thank god for the intermission otherwise he feared he may have ran out of the restaurant right then and there. Andrew was now massively appreciative to his past self who had decided to drink so much already, for his mind palace was significantly delayed when it came to making big decisions, his body however was not. 

Andrew’s toes were curled in his shoes, his stomach felt so far down he was sure it was touching tips with his dick, he could feel individual beads of sweat creep down his temple, travelling past his ears and tickling the back of his neck and if it wasn’t for the half empty glass of beer in his hands, they would be involuntarily shaking so noticeably, Steven might even call an ambulance. 

“Andrew.”

And there he goes again with being the too-nice-guy. Steven presses his hand against the top of Andrew’s, both of them encasing the chilled glass. He locks his eyes on the two hands, reminding himself every second to not look up into Steven’s eyes. There’s no doubt they’re warm looking, understanding and unbelievably safe. They’re also a trap that Steven wants to trick Andrew with; into telling him. Andrew almost dares him to guide his own hand away from the beer and intertwine fingers with Steven. Almost. 

It sucks, it really sucks, because it hurts Andrew’s heart, and he knows damn well why it hurts him there, he’s not ready to admit that to himself yet. And he knows he’s cliche, he knows the whole ordeal is like a goddamn fanfic, but he can’t help it when it all feels so real. The pain he feels every night which causes him to poison his body with liquor is so bloody real that Andrew’s scared of saying anything. It’s not something he can brush off and joke about anymore, it’s not something that’s going away anytime soon and it flew past that point months ago. 

Andrew opens his mouth, but closes it just as fast, gaping like a fish. He can’t trust his voice right now, not until he’s had another sip of that delicious beer that’s staring back at him. So instead, he nods. He’s listening, through the confronting static buzz in his ears, only just. 

He can’t decide if he’s grateful that Steven continues, filling the silence as well as Andrew with more everlasting dread. 

“Talk to me. Please, Andrew, talk to me,” Steven said, “Stop staring at nothing, stop being so quiet. Damn it, you’re always so quiet. Stop it.”

Was he getting mad? Andrew couldn’t tell. 

His head was hanging so low at this point his only motive was to avoid Steven noticing how wet his eyes had become over the past few minutes. He assumed Steven was left making dead eyes at the crown in his honey blonde hair. As long as Andrew couldn’t see the hurt in Steven’s eyes, everything would be fine. 

It wasn’t right for Steven to be asking Andrew to be his best man. Best men don’t react this way when being asked such an important question. Best men don’t toxically hate themselves because the desire to decline their request is so much stronger than accepting. Best men don’t hate the idea of their best friend getting married to someone other than themselves. Best men don’t involuntarily fall in love with the groom years before the very thought of proposing. Best men don’t do that. In no way does Andrew even deserve to own the title for the rest of his life. 

People will ask, years after the ceremony, _“Who was Steven’s best man?” and they’ll say “Andrew Ilnyckyj. Oh wait, no, he bailed last minute. It was actually Ben Coleman. The one who actually earned the entitlement.”_

Andrew couldn’t stand the thought of being replaced, especially not by Ben. It left him feeling sick right through to the core. He lifted his head slowly, trailing his eyes up Steven’s neck bit by bit until they made steady eye contact.

His voice was barely audible, it was raspy and choked off; sounding more like one of ghostly recordings Ryan and Shane catch from time to time. 

“Yes. Of course, I’ll be—“ His throat dried up so fast the entire hallway of his oesophagus fluttered to a close and cut him off. Andrew swallowed intensely, “I’ll be your best man.” 

He didn’t think he’d had it in him. But he staggered on, forcing the corner of his lips to curl into what Andrew hoped looked more like a smile and less like a grimace. He’d have to ignore the fact that there were tears clinging to the inner corner of both his eyes, as well as the wetness covering his dark bags. 

Steven’s face cleared whatsoever, his bright smile reappearing and stretching across the whole of his face. It made Andrew feel a little better, or so he told himself. 

It was the next week at work when Adam turned slightly in his chair to look at the side of Andrew’s face. He’d noticed the movement right away but let the silence drag on while he stained to hear for when Adam decided to speak. 

“So, I assume you’ve heard?”

There was a short pause as Andrew sighed. He swivelled around on his chair so that he was facing his bearded friend entirely.

“Yes, Adam. Yes, of course I’ve fucking heard. He bloody asked me last Thursday if I wanted to be his best man.” 

“That’s why you weren’t here on Friday,” Andrew looked away then, scowling at the opened sequence in Adobe Premier he hadn’t actually touched in around twenty minutes. “We missed you.”

Andrew’s response was harsh, harsher than he’d meant it to be. “We? Who’s we?” 

“You know exactly who I’m talking about. Steven and I. You also knew we were planning to start filming the Philippines episode that day.” 

“Yeah, well it’s not my fault he decided to throw me into the deep end the night before. He should have known I wouldn’t show.” 

“He should have? What are you on about? How was he to know how you’d react? In case you don’t remember, he doesn’t exactly know about your—“

“Alright! I fucking get it.” His mind ran dry, Andrew had no more excuses, no more motives to defend himself for being a dick. For being in love. “I just don’t get why he— I don’t understand how he’s so oblivious to it all. I’m not the most subtle.”

Adam snickers, it catches Andrew off guard, “No, you’re definitely not. It’s a wonder he hasn’t picked up on it through editing alone.” 

“I thought they’d officially split last April? Although that didn’t last very long.”

Those devastatingly short months that followed the news of Steven and Ying’s possible break were the best Andrew had experienced in years. They were flourished with hope and happiness; he even swore he woke up each morning seeing more colour than he had previously. It was as if the saturation bar in his life had been raised by a full mile. And for the first time in forever, Andrew actually believed that he had a chance with Steven Lim.

“Yeah, I remembering Steven mentioning that they were taking a break, but that actually only lasted for two weeks until they— yeah.” 

“Until they what?” Andrew’s eyebrows were raised in interest. New information on Steven.

Adam’s eyes met with Andrew’s for a brief moment before being dragged away just as suddenly. It was pity. Andrew would almost call it the definition of a sympathetic glance. It dawned upon him that he didn’t actually want to hear what Adam was going to say, not anymore.

“Until they, I don’t know, realised that they couldn’t— you know,” Adam wouldn’t even turn his face his direction, “be without each other.”

It stung. He would admit to himself that it stung to hear that. 

“Yeah, well…” Andrew’s hands were clenched into fists, his bottom jaw jutted out like a child, “Fuck them. I hope they’re happy.”

Adam frowned, quickly hitting _Ctrl S_ on his keyboard, “You’re planning to ditch the wedding aren’t you?”

“What else am I supposed to do? I can’t even look—“ Andrew made a face at Adam, “I can’t even imagine myself standing up there next to him. It’s not, I won’t, I can’t. I can’t do that to him, or myself.”

“No, what you can’t do to him is agree to being his best man and then not show up. _That_ is what you can’t do to him.” 

“What did you expect me to do? Decline his offer and have someone else replaced me?”

Adam’s facial expression sifted into something Andrew couldn’t recognise, something like shock and most definitely disappointment, “Wait, is that why you accepted? Because you didn’t want to be replaced?” There was a sharpness to his voice, as if he was literally spitting at Andrew, it made him cringe.

“No, of course not. Of course that’s not why I accepted. There’s more to it, I just can’t say.”

“What do you mean you can’t say? I think you owe it to both of us to say,”

“I mean I literally can’t say, they’re feelings, I can’t put it into words.”

Andrew didn’t miss the way Adam sighed, slumping back into his chair and gazing at Andrew through hooded eyes. He looked just as tired as Andrew felt, he looked just as disgusted as Andrew felt, just as let down as Andrew felt. 

“You better figure out how to put it into words soon, otherwise you’re going to literally break Steven.”

“At least it’ll make two of us.”

Adam sat up then, “Andrew. Just remember this isn’t about you at all, this is Steven’s big day. He’s going to remember those hours for the rest of his life. So for this one time, put him before yourself.”

“I’ve been doing that for the past two fucking years. I ended my last relationship by putting him before me, I’ve helped Worth It become what it is today by putting him before me, I’ve kept our entire friendship alive by putting him before me, now I’ve made his wedding better by putting him before me—“

“—But you’re not going to show.”

“Well… No.”

“For God’s sake,” Adam took off his glasses, flung them onto his desk and then scrubbed a hand at his face. Andrew found himself following his actions, using both palms to pull up his eyelids and run into his hair. “What is going on inside you’re head? You don’t make any sense,”

“I don’t know!” Andrew groaned into his hands, “Oh, God, I don’t know. I. Don’t. Know.”

The two of them sat there in silence, both staring at each other’s shoes. Andrew’s thoughts were flashing by at lightening speed, the plan he had had a few weeks ago resurfaced and conveniently was the only one that stayed long enough for Andrew to propose a question to Adam.

“Should I just tell him?”

Andrew studied Adam’s face, it tightened slightly into something more serious. It worried Andrew.

“I—“ Adam closed his mouth again, thinking hard, “I don’t think so.” he shook his head slowly.

It was left at that. Andrew nodded solemnly, turned off his monitor and walked out of the office. Adam watched him leave and then continued to focus on the doorway he’d exited through, as if waiting for him to return and kneel crying by Adam’s chair, begging for his help. When Andrew didn’t seem to be coming back, Adam truly believed that he’d gone batshit crazy and that he’d receive a phone call in roughly three hours informing him that Andrew Ilnyckyj had accidentally ripped open his chest with a smoothie blender. 

“Good luck.” He said to no one in particular. 


End file.
